


One Day At A Time

by Elwen_of_the_hidden_valley



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Children, Elves, Family, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Mirror of Galadriel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-02
Updated: 2016-04-02
Packaged: 2018-05-30 18:12:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6435001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elwen_of_the_hidden_valley/pseuds/Elwen_of_the_hidden_valley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seeing into the future is not all it is cracked up to be.  Celebrian pays dearly for it and Arwen will never know how much her mother sacrificed for her safety.</p>
<p>This is one of my earliest fic's and my Middle earth world view has changed since writing it.  But I think it still has something to say as a stand alone piece.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Day At A Time

**Author's Note:**

> All the characters and major events in this tale belong to JRR Tolkien. This is a non profit fanfic.

Galadriel let her arm slide from her daughters’ shoulders and circled to stand before her. “Remember my words, my child. The mirror is not a reliable foreteller of events. What you have seen, tonight, may never come to pass. Do not let it overshadow the joy that you have now.” She lifted one delicate hand to cup Celebrians’ cheek, moving her thumb to brush away the last stray tear that spilled from red rimmed eyes. 

No matter how many years had passed since her birth, nor how many grandchildren she presented her with, Celebrian would always be her child and no mother could bear to see her child cry. The younger elf leaned into the comfort of her mothers’ soothing touch and swallowed down another sob. Leaving a cool soft kiss on her cheek, Galadriel turned away, slipping silently into the dappled moonlight and shadows of the mallorn trees. 

Celebrian stood before the door to her daughters’ chamber, almost afraid to enter, lest she found her visions already come true. Elrond would be waiting in their room but she did not trust herself to his scrutiny until her tears had stopped. Slipping quietly into the room, she sought for the bed and the dreaming head of her child. Her heart stopped. The covers were drawn back and the pillow dinted but there was no sign of Arwen. For a moment vision and reality blurred and she thought her child already carried off, and then her ear caught the whisper of a gentle sigh. Spinning to the right her eyes fell on the long dark swathe of her child’s hair and her heart resumed its tempo.

For a moment, Celebrians’ mind could not make sense of the things her eyes were seeing. The corner was deep in shadow and, although she could see Arwens’, hair she could find no sign of a face. Blinking away tears that she did not realise had resurfaced she finally deciphered the image before her. Her husband sat in a chair, their little daughter held secure in his lap. Her head lay on his chest and his own hair, unbound for sleep, was entwined with hers, hiding the white curve of her cheek behind its raven curtain. He sighed again and lifted his face to the moonlight, silvered eyes softly unfocused in sleep, to let his head fall against the high padded back of the chair. Celebrian sat on the end of the bed, entranced by the picture.

Every plane of that elegant face was familiar to her and yet, tonight, she had seen an expression in it that she had never thought to see directed at a member of his family. In the silvered rim of her mothers’ mirror she had seen a visage so tortured that it had wrested a cry from her. Her husbands’ sometimes merry, often solemn, always loving, face had been carved into a cold mask. Now, looking at soft curve of his smooth, high brow and the gentle bow of his mouth, she could not believe that such a hard expression was possible on his features. Celebrian let her eyes slip down from the study of his face, seeking out their daughter. 

Elrond had wrapped her in one of her mothers’ shawls, for comfort, and she leaned upon his chest, her little body moving back and forth with each shallow breath that her father drew. His arms were wrapped around her, holding her secure even though he slept deeply himself. Nothing would have made him drop his little princess. There was no mistaking they were father and daughter. Both shared the same long, slightly melancholy face, the same dark hair and Arwens’ eyes mirrored the deep grey, solemn gaze of her sire. Celebrian could easily reconcile the face she saw before her and the older version she had witnessed in her mothers mirror earlier. Perplexed, she could not imagine what Arwen could possibly do to hurt her father so and why he should respond with such harshness. 

He loved the twins, of course, but he adored Arwen. She was the apple of his eye. And she, for her part, returned the adoration in the way only a daughter could, climbing in to his lap to plant wet kisses on his cheek at any opportunity and following at his heels half the day if she was allowed. Celebrian was not surprised that the little elleth had turned to her father tonight, when she had obviously awoken from some bad dream. She remembered going through a similar period of nightmares when she was her age. In the past few months Celebrian had often roused in the morning to find Arwen in the bed between them, her little head resting on her fathers’ shoulder and his arm draped loosely about her. There was a bond between them that she would have envied if both child and husband had not lavished equal amounts of love on her. Perhaps the mirror was wrong or maybe Celebrian could prevent whatever it was from happening. Yet, Galadriel had said that the visions could not be trusted as a guide for actions; warning that sometimes the events did not come about unless one tried to prevent them. 

The vision drew her in again. Who was the stranger in the shadows behind Arwen? He was tall as an elf but broader of build and dark bearded. What connection had this mortal with the events she had witnessed? Celebrian watched her child’s sleeping face and compared it to the grown Arwen she had watched in the mirror. Willow thin, with dark hair floating in waves down her back, she would grow tall like him too. Study of the physical frame of her child only served to distract her for a short while from the emotion of the scene she had witnessed. 

Celebrian could see the woods of Lorien. Arwen was crying, her hands reaching towards her father, in supplication, but Elrond was standing tall and firm. He turned a face, set in a hard and emotionless mask, to his daughter. Although no sound could be heard, Celebrian knew enough of her husbands’ many moods to know when he would brook no argument, the chopping movement of his arm indicating that the matter, whatever it was, was closed. For one moment longer, Arwen had stood, tight lipped, tears rolling down her flushed cheeks, then she had spun on her heal and fled her fathers’ presence. The mortal had faded back into the shadows. 

Elrond stirred in his sleep once more, unconsciously shifting the child’s weight in his lap. For her part, Arwen reached out a hand to grasp the front of his tunic, where it hung open to expose his shirt. Celebrian could see that her husband had been undressing for bed when he had heard his daughters’ cries. She smiled as the image came, unbidden, of the normally unruffled Lord of Imladris, running from their room, his hair billowing behind him, desperate to reach his dream tormented child. When she considered it, Celebrian realised that the only times that she had ever seen her lover look worried or upset was when one of their children was in distress. 

Her thoughts returned, once more, to the vision. What could happen that would elicit such a rift in the father, daughter relationship? Could it be anything to do with the other, fleeting image from the mirror? She had seen Arwen, a grown elf, with a small household escort on the road to Lothlorien. Suddenly the little party had been surrounded by orcs. Despite the best efforts of the other elves, Arwen had been overcome and Celebrians’ final image was of her daughter, draped unconscious, over an orcs’ shoulder as they ran back into the woods.

“Good evening, my love” Her husbands’ soft voice brought Celebrian thoughts back to the present. His eyes were focussed on her face now and a smile bowed his lips. She forced her lips to mirror his and, for a moment, thought he had not noticed but then his smile faded and his face filled with concern as he noted her still red-rimmed eyes. 

“You did it, then?” 

“Yes.”

Their daughter stirred, a small whimper escaping her lips and Elrond dropped his face to place a kiss upon her forehead, adjusting his hold slightly. She settled back into sleep. “You know my opinions on that mirror. You have not your mothers’ skill to bend it to your will. Whatever you saw cannot be a reliable prediction of events in Arwens’ life.”

“I know. But you should know the vision. It could be important. I saw Arwen……”

Elrond interrupted, “We discussed this before.” His face had adopted the stern look she had often seen him set in council meetings. “I could not prevent you from going to your mother but I do not want to know what you believe you saw.”

“But, my love . . . ”

“No, Celebrian.” 

She had lived with him years long enough to know that, “No,” in that particular tone of voice meant precisely that, and she sighed. Elrond stood, careful not to wake the sleeping child, and moved to the bed, where Celebrian helped him lay their daughter back amongst the covers, the mother tenderly bending to lay a kiss on the tip of her child’s upturned nose. 

Feeling a comfortable presence behind her, Celebrian leaned back and came to rest against her lords’ chest. Hands slid down her ribs, reaching forward to clasp loosely on her belly, and she smelled the soft sandalwood perfume of him as a kiss was breathed upon the tip of her ear. Turning, within the circle of his arms, she reached up to slip her hands behind his neck, entwining her fingers in the warm weight of his hair. Her husbands’ face had softened and she bathed in the love that she found in those deep grey eyes. Their lips met and her stomach fluttered in response to the familiar touch of her lover. 

“I will speak of it no more, my love”, she whispered. 

Elrond bent to plant a feather soft kiss on each tear reddened eyelid then turned, taking a hand to draw his wife away to the seclusion of their chamber. 

\--------------0-------------

 

 

CHAPTER TWO

 

Celebrians eyes swept the trees again. She recognised the spot. It would happen here and a quickening of her heart told her that it would happen now. The escort had picked up her unease, although nothing had been said, and they too were searching the surrounding woods, drawing their horses closer about their lady. She swallowed in a throat too dry and steeled herself for what was to come.

A terrifying chorus of deep throated howls assailed her sensitive ears and her mount skittered sideways in alarm. The elven warriors surrounding her drew sword and bow and pulled into a circle about their lady. Orcs burst from the undergrowth all about them and battle was joined. The escort had been hand picked by her husband, the best that Imladris could provide, but they were greatly outnumbered. Within minutes the archers had exhausted their supply of arrows and all were now fighting with knife and sword. For a while the elves had the advantage, their position on horseback giving them a wider reach, but the orcs began slipping in and hacking at their mounts, the agonising shrieks of dying horses joining the yells and grunts of fighters and the ring of steel upon steel. 

Many years ago Elrond had insisted that she gain at least some basic training in the use of a light sword but Celebrian doubted she would be able to defend herself for long. Nonetheless, she drew her blade and waited for the first orc to break through the protective circle. It happened all too soon. 

A rider went down at her right, his horse cut from under him, and several orcs leapt at her over the still thrashing form. Celebrian managed to slash at only one before she was dragged from the saddle and the sword knocked from her hand. Another of the escort saw her plight and tried to come to her aid but his attackers saw his concentration waver and a mighty scimitar hacked the unfortunate elf’s body in half. The hilt of a dagger crashed into her temple and Celebrian collapsed like a rag doll. Able to give no more resistance, she was hauled roughly across a broad shoulder and carried off. Her last thought, before consciousness fled, was one of relief. Arwen was safe in Rivendell. She had turned aside one of the visions.

\--------------0-------------

 

Elrond scooped up the wailing child and drew him to his chest, gently patting the boys back. “Ssshhhh, Estel. Let me see.” He sat down, setting the still inconsolable toddler in his lap and began to examine the right knee. Estel pulled his leg away, anticipating further pain, and his howls increased in volume. 

His protector sighed, as he saw several elves stop to trace the source of the commotion. If the elf lord did not do something to still the child’s crying soon, half of the household would be out to see what the matter was.

He gave up trying to capture the blood stained knee and pulled the boy closer into his arms again, rocking gently and stroking his fingers rhythmically up and down the small spine. Inspired by memory of his own children Elrond drew breath and began to sing. The rich baritone of his voice cut through the cries and drifted across the lawn. It had been many a year since anyone had heard the Master of Rivendells’ perfectly pitched voice raised in song, particularly in a lullaby. 

It had the desired effect on Estel. Gilraen arrived as her son subsided into deep sobs, the thumb of one hand pushed into his mouth, the other tiny fist clutching Elronds tunic, creasing the expensive fabric. Allowing the last note of the elvish lullaby to fade, Elrond looked up into Gilraens’ eyes. 

In the act of reaching out for her son, she stopped, when she saw the love and compassion in the elf’s eyes and let her arms fall in surprise. He had always seemed so distant to her son, this elf lord. Suddenly she saw him as a father and realised why his own children loved him so fiercely. Estels’ eyes were closed and his breathing was slowing in to the rhythm of sleep. 

Carefully disentangling the tiny hand from his tunic Elrond handed the boy over to his mother. “Come inside, and I will bathe and dress the knee. It is only a scrape. He will recover.”

As Gilraen followed at his heels, he tried to bring his emotions back under control. How had the boy managed to slip so far under his defences that quickly? Elrond had intended to remain aloof, a protector only this time. Too many times he had become emotionally invested in his brother’s heirs. Elrond smiled at his own foolishness. If only emotions were that simple. He wondered what the future held for this Lord of the Dunedain, the Heir of Isildur - Such grand titles for a little scrap of life. Doubtless, Galadriel could tell him if he asked, but he had seen enough of the damage that could be done with foretelling. 

As they entered his study his eyes were drawn to the portrait on the wall across from his desk where Celebrian smiled out at him from the canvass. There would be no visit to Galadriel for this child. Estel would face his life, one day at a time, and Elrond would provide all the fatherly love he could, to prepare him for whatever his short life would bring him.

\--------------0-------------

Arwen stepped up to the broad shallow basin before her. Stars were reflected in the mirrored surface of the water. Her grandmother drew closer at the other side and the two gazed into the silvered depths.

THE END


End file.
